


Dragon's Angel

by RosaleenBan



Series: Risen Angels Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Griffins, Happy Ending, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot, Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:31:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9820664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaleenBan/pseuds/RosaleenBan
Summary: A sequel to From the Void. The big bad is vanquished, but lots of loose ends snowball into real trouble for the Winchesters and their angels...especially what comes out of the Void itself.This is on hiatus for a bit while I work on a few other things.





	1. Prologue: In the Void

Raphael was content to watch Gabriel as he led a small group of angels out of the Void and back to Earth. He was glad to lend his strength to his brother. Despite the distance of time and conflicting personalities, he loved his brother, and hoped returning to Earth would bring him happiness.

Raphael himself was not ready for that journey, though. He was, at his core, a healer, not a trickster like Gabriel or a warrior like Michael. He certainly had none of Lucifer’s charisma nor talent for leadership. He wasn’t sure he had the strength to fight his way out of here, and he certainly wasn’t interested in the chaos of battle.

Besides, he had grown weary of Heaven and Earth long before Michael had convinced him to help trigger the apocalypse; without God’s warmth and light, there seemed to be nothing good and pure enough to live for.

But God was here, in the Void. Raphael could feel Him often, and would sometimes fly out to the outer edges of this weird place to feel closer to Him. God never acknowledged him out there – though it wasn’t possible that He didn’t notice – but that didn’t discourage him. Raphael was content just to know that he once again existed in a world with his Father.

Lately, though, things were changing. Ammut had risen from her sleep, angry at Gabriel’s betrayal. More often than not, the bright lights at the edge of Raphael’s vision were angry blue and black reflections of the dragon’s ire, not his Father’s love. The other angels were starting to notice as well.

Raphael ignored their questions and pretended not to see their furtive looks. He knew the other angels wanted him to lead them into battle against the dragon. He knew they wanted him to win them back their lives and their freedom. He knew Naomi and Zachariah particularly had already begun plotting their new lives in Heaven.

He ignored all of it. He was content here, in this strange, peaceful place. With Michael and Lucifer in the cage and his distant Father here, he had no reason to want to go back.


	2. Wings

Castiel stood beside Gabriel, the last of the archangels, in a grassy field in Kansas, looking out over the last of his brethren as the sun set behind them. Samandriel, the young angel filled with ancient knowledge after being tortured by the King of Hell, landed between them softly, a somber look on his face. Besides them, five hundred and twenty-one other angels crowded into the field – the last of the angelic host, less the two traitors who were still in the custody of Gabriel’s griffins.

Of those, seventy-four had been dead as of just a few weeks ago. Gabriel had been dead with them, their angelic souls caught in the Void, the place between worlds. Only an archangel could fight his way back to life from there, and Gabriel had brought these angels back with him when he forged a path back with stolen dragon magic.

The others – they were why the angels had gathered here in the first place. To an angel, each one was broken: their wings tattered and skeletal, their Grace unable to mend the damage from their fall. Metatron had done this to them: had cast them out of Heaven, stolen their homes and exiled them to Earth.

Castiel stretched his own blue-black and gold wings, all too familiar with how incredibly impotent his brothers and sisters felt without their wings. Until just a few days ago, he himself had been the worst of them: his very Grace had been tied up in the spell that closed Heaven, and he was close to death. During their battle for Heaven with Abaddon, Gabriel had fixed that.

Now, these new wings – four instead of two – were metaphysical proof of the changes Gabriel’s magic had wrought. His Grace was restored, but tied to the dragon magic Gabriel had brought back from the Void. He and Gabriel were bound by it in a way, but Castiel felt that he was in control of it, that any ties it kept on Gabriel and his archangel-pagan power was vestigial. It filled him with strength he was unaccustomed to – strength that was only second to an archangel’s.

Castiel bristled at the thought, his feathers standing on end for a moment. He had not asked for that power. He had been avoiding anything like power over the other angels, but he hadn’t had much choice. It was this, or let stolen Grace burn him out, eventually killing him.

He hoped he would not be corrupted by this new power, as he had been after the apocalypse. That the angels and Heaven would not suffer him trying to make things right. He might have prayed for it, if he thought his Father would listen.

“You’re distracted,” Samandriel pointed out.

“I’m overwhelmed,” Castiel admitted. “Are you sure this is going to work?”

“’Course it’ll work, Cassie,” Gabriel chimed in, full as always with false bravado. “Stop worrying so much.”

“We have cause to worry,” Castiel pointed out humorlessly.

“I’ve gone over this a dozen times. I know what I’m doing,” Samandriel reassured him. Then he warned, “You’re going to be drained by the end, though. Both of you.”

“I think temporary exhaustion is the least I can do to make this right,” Castiel said. He looked out at the other angels in the field. The resurrected ones – those with wings – had arranged themselves on the outside of the group, standing tall and proud, wings spread protectively in a circle as Samandriel had instructed. They glistened in the twilight, the light of their grace seeming to grow as the darkness deepened. They were there to contain the spell’s energies, making sure only the other angels were affected. The rest were watching the three of them, restless and visibly worried. Castiel nodded at them.

“We should begin,” he said to Samandriel and Gabriel.

Samandriel held out each of his hands, and Castiel and Gabriel each took one. They didn’t reach for each other to close the circle; that was the purpose of the risen angels. Instead, they each splayed their hands outward, palms facing the collective before them, ready for their power to be channeled into them.

“ _Tor-ka-lev-ah-dah_ ,” Samandriel began to chant in that odd language, one Castiel suspected predated even Enochian.

Castiel felt it almost immediately: the pull of those words on his Grace. He gave into it instantly, letting Samandriel channel his power into a spell beyond his comprehension. He felt Gabriel do the same, their three Graces combining into pure holy energy.

Samandriel lifted his voice, strange syllables flowing at what would be a deafening volume for a human. “ _Ka-lev-ka-meh. Ka-seh-ka-loch_.”

Castiel _felt_ it when the spell took shape. It was ecstatic, beautiful, joyous: everything Castiel had learned to no longer associate with the angelic Host. Fresh, healing power surged through them, then vaulted out to embrace the angels before them, wrapping them up in its clean, unexpected embrace.

Castiel wanted to watch it work, to see as the angels’ wings were restored, but he found the magic taking control. His eyes closed of their own accord, and he found himself turned inward, watching as his new draconic power amplified the angelic healing.

It was beautiful and odd. Certainly not angelic – but not unholy either. It seemed to sing in the presence of holy magic, crackling happily against the power of their combined Graces, though it shied away from Gabriel’s green pagan magic. For a moment, he felt as though he understood it, could truly master it.

And then Samandriel’s voice lowered again, and Castiel felt his and Gabriel’s Graces retreat back into themselves.

The loneliness of it hit him first – the lack of connection, the sudden sole proprietorship of his Grace and his soul. Then profound exhaustion rolled through him like a wave. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to collapse. They had prepared for this, too, and he knew when he woke up, he’d be in Dean’s bed, the hunter by his side.

 

...

 

Dean was in his room, reading, when Anna flew in holding Castiel, and looking for a place to let him rest. The hunter automatically put down his book and made room on the bed for him.

“How did it go?” Dean asked, looking over his angel. He was prepared for Cas to be out for hours after the spell, but he was already recovering, wearily laying himself out on the bed and watching Dean and Anna with mild interest.

“Not well,” Anna told him seriously.

“The angels –?” Dean asked, worried. “Are they ok?”

“Everyone’s fine.” Anna’s voice was tired, but nothing in its timbre alarmed Dean. “Or as fine as it can be. Nothing’s changed.”

“No wings?”

She shook her head. “Castiel, Gabriel and Samandriel tried – we could all feel _something_ when they worked their spell. But no real change.”

Dean carded his fingers through Castiel’s hair. “So he exhausted himself for nothing?”

“All three of them,” Anna told him with a small shrug. “Gabriel is the only one who woke up right away, but even he looks bad. Balthazar took Samandriel to recover.”

“Think it would have worked better up in Heaven?” Dean asked.

Anna shook her head. “I don’t know much of anything about this. But Heaven is still in tatters after the battle with Abaddon. I don’t know that it would have helped.” Her face broke out into a small smile. “We’ll talk more later. Looks like my brother needs you right now.”

Dean looked down at Castiel, who was slowly blinking his eyes open, clearly disoriented and groggy. He heard Anna’s wings flap as she left his room, but he didn’t bother to look up to confirm her exit. There were more important things on his mind.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked the angel, arranging himself to sit beside him more comfortably. Castiel leaned his head against Dean’s thigh, closing his eyes again but clearly awake.

“Not very good,” the angel said dryly. “Did it work?”

Dean shook his head, his fingers finding their way through Cas’s black locks again. “Not this time,” he told the angel. “Anna says everyone’s alright, but no new wings.”

Cas sighed into Dean’s leg, and Dean could see the wheels turning in his head as the angel turned his frustration back in on himself.

“Hey, it was just the first try,” Dean told him, trying to keep his voice hopeful – trying to be what he knew his angel needed. “Alfie probably missed something in his translation. You’ll figure it out.”

“We don’t have time to figure it out,” Castiel told him, clearly catastrophizing. “The angels need their wings now. They can’t get home without them.”

“Hey, last I checked they’ve been like this for a few months now, and they’re getting by. We don’t even have Abaddon to worry about anymore. I think they can wait a bit longer.” Dean gave a wry smile. “Besides, I think it’s been good for them, being on earth for a while. They’re learning.”

Dean rearranged himself again so he was lying on the bed next to Castiel, both of them on top of the crisply made blankets. He put his hand on Castiel’s shoulders and leaned in to pull their foreheads together.

It was still very new, this thing between them – this intimacy. Dean was still reeling from it, honestly, but he was getting more and more comfortable with it. With these strange little moments, one’s he’d never had with anyone else, but that he had always been just on the edge of with Castiel.

“We’ll figure it out,” he told the exhausted angel. “Let’s just get some rest for now, and we’ll talk it through later.”

Cas gave a small smile and nodded, taking the opportunity to lean his forehead closer into Dean’s. “Very well,” he said. “I don’t think I have the energy for anything else right now.”

Dean smiled and leaned up to kiss Cas on the forehead. Then he just laid there, tracing his hand up and down Castiel’s arm as the angel rested, content just to be beside him for a while.

 

…

 

Sam was waiting in his room as the angels tried to restore the wings of the Host, reading a treatise by the Men of Letters on the treatment of non-threatening supernatural creatures. The small relic of a clock next to his bed ticked over slowly from 10:59 to 11:00 pm., its analog face both weird and comforting. Although the angels had left just after dinner, he wasn’t really concerned – he knew Gabe and Cas would be drained by the end of it, but that would be temporary. Instead, he was curious.

He had wanted to come to the ritual himself to watch – to see what they were doing, he told Gabriel. Really, he wanted to see if he would be able to see the magic they were using; if he would see the shadows of wings as they formed, though he wasn’t ready to tell Gabriel about that just yet.

The archangel had forbidden it anyway. There was far too much holy magic being thrown around, and he wasn’t sure if the wings would be corporeal as they healed, and if Sam’s eyes would be burned out as Pamela’s had. Sam had known better than to argue.

So he was stuck here, sitting and reading. Waiting.

Winchesters were not good at waiting.

When Gabriel finally did show up, he was much worse for wear than Sam had expected. He looked pale and gaunt, as Castiel had before their battel with Abaddon, when he was just barely holding onto life. Even his dirty blond hair was limp and dull. His eyes were sunken in, half-lidded as though the effort of keeping them open was too much.

“Heya, kiddo,” the archangel breathed out tiredly before collapsing on the bed.

“Hey,” Sam said gently, lying down and carefully arranging the archangel so he was lying with his head against Sam’s chest – his favorite position to cuddle in. In a detached way, Sam was surprised that the archangel came _here_ when he was vulnerable like this, after so many centuries of being by himself, with so many of his own private havens to go to when he had to recover.

Though, maybe that was _why_ he was so quick to seek Sam out. Sam knew enough to know that angels weren’t made to be alone, and even though he’d never admit it, Gabriel had been desperate for company during all those centuries.

“How did it go?” Sam asked once they were situated.

“No luck,” Gabriel told him. “Angels are still wing-clipped.”

Sam frowned. “Was something wrong with the spell?” he prodded.

Gabriel shrugged, his shoulders sliding against Sam’s stomach. “Guess so. Not my problem – Alfie’ll figure it out.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows together. “Aren’t you worried? Are you sure your Grace is as stable as it seems? Yours and Castiel’s?”

Gabriel gave him a put-upon sigh. “It’s _fine_ ,” he insisted.  “Of all the archangelic powers Dad gave to me and my bros, healing was never my forte. I’m stable. Cassie is stable. Alfie seems a little off, but I think the kid just needs to find more time in his schedule for fun.” He nuzzled Sam’s chest for a moment, as if to fluff it for optimal pillow consistency. “Now it’s time to turn that big sexy brain off, Winchester, and let me rest. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

Sam shook his head and smiled fondly down at the archangel. “Alright,” he said. “Whatever you want.”

“That’s better,” the Trickster said. Then, roguishly: “I promise you’ll be rewarded later.”

Sam’s smile widened, knowing exactly the kind of reward he was in for. He was looking forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for so patiently waiting for this sequel! It took me a while longer than I thought to figure it all out, but it's well on its way now! I hope you like it as much as from the Void!


	3. On the Hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT? Not only am I posting this chapter, but the next one is ALSO complete, and i'm almost 1000 words into another? It must be camp NaNoWriMo time!
> 
> I'll update again once I find time to meet my daily word goals AND edit. ;)

Waking up next to Castiel was – well, it was still something Dean wasn’t used to. It was warm and comfortable. Oddly familiar, after so many nights in battle together, in purgatory…but completely different. Dean could _feel_ the angel beside him; could feel his contentedness. He could almost feel the invisible brush of wings.

It was so comfortable, he decided to ignore the insistent ringing that had woken him up, and leaned into the angel sleepily instead.

“Dean,” Cas said, his gravelly voice conveying more in a single syllable than most people said in whole paragraphs. Dean decided to ignore most of it and just relaxed into his angel.

“Mmmm,” Dean responded, closing his eyes and willing the ringing to stop.

“Dean, if you won’t answer your phone, at least allow me up to get it,” Castiel insisted. Dean could feel the annoyance in his voice, but it was mostly good natured.

Dean put his arm on the angel’s stomach, hoping to pin him where he was.

Cas sighed, and Dean felt a gentle kiss on the top of his head. “Fortunately, I’m back to full strength,” the angel reminded him, before gently lifting Dean bodily, then reaching for the phone.

“Good morning, Garth,” Cas said soon after it stopped ringing. And that was Dean’s cue.

“Give me that,” Dean said, more annoyed at Garth than Cas. Cas allowed him to pull the phone out of his hand and put it up to his own head. “Garth. What’s up?”

“Morning, Dean! I didn’t wake you or anything, did I?”

“No,” Dean lied, not very convincingly. “Course you didn’t. I’m always up at the ass-crack of dawn”

“Oh, good!” Garth said, apparently taking him at face value. “I have a problem in Kansas I was hoping you fellows could take a look at it for me.”

“A case?” Dean asked, perking up. “What kind of case?”

“Not sure yet,” Garth said. “Got some missing kids a few miles out from you. I’m thinking maybe pegasi?”

“Pega- _what?_ ” Dean asked. “Do they even exist?”

“Not according to the lore, no, but I thought it would explain the light show,” Garth said, as light and matter of fact as if he were talking about what to make for dinner. “Could be flying off with the kids, Pied Piper style.”

Dean closed his eyes, suddenly regretting his instinct to take the phone from Cas.

“What light show?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah. That’s the weird thing,” Garth elaborated. “Residents have been describing some freaky lights in the sky over the city at night. Never comes out in photos so only the locals believe it for now, but it sounds like it’s up our ally.”

Dean looked at Cas, whose face was as implacable as ever. Dean was skeptical. “I don’t know, Garth. Weird lights? Could just be some movie production reflecting off the clouds or something.”

“In Wichita?” Garth asked. “People would know. Besides, there’s all the missing kids. You can’t let them down, can you?”

And he was right about that, at least. “No, I guess not,” Dean acceded. He grabbed a pen and pad off his nightstand. “Ok, what do I need to know?”

He started to smile as he wrote down the address and names Garth gave him. A good, old fashioned hunt. With a bunker full or angels and a trip to heaven to gank Abaddon and all, he had kinda missed these.

 

…

 

That morning, Sam found himself in the bunker kitchen, making pancakes for himself and his brother. Gabriel had disappeared sometime during the night – again – so Sam skipped the chocolate chips and opted for sliced strawberries and tart raspberries instead.

“Sammy!” Dean greeted, making his way into the kitchen.  “Coffee?”

“Already made,” Sam told his brother, a hint of ice in his voice. He had been up for over an hour, and had put the coffee on between his morning run and his shower. Truth be told, although Dean hadn’t done anything wrong, it was grating to have his brother intrude upon the morning’s quiet.

Dean gave him a shit eating grin as he reached for a mug and the full coffee pot. “Good to know you’re good for something,” he teased.

“You’re in a good mood today,” Sam pointed out dryly, ignoring the insult. “Any particular reason?”

“Cas is feeling better. We’ve got angels on our side for once. No big bads running around. We’ve got a new case,” Dean counted off. “What can I say? Life is good.”

“New case?” Sam asked, one eyebrow going up in a request for elaboration.

“Garth called this morning,” Dean explained. “Cas took the call. Seems like there’s trouble just outside of Wichita. Something about missing kids. Locals report seeing colored lights in the sky at night, like the Northern Lights in Kansas. It started the same time the kids started disappearing.”

“Missing kids. This makes you happy?” Sam asked incredulously, putting a large stack of pancakes on the table in front of Dean, and a slightly smaller one in front of his own seat.

“Course it does!” Dean quipped back, drenching the pancakes in maple syrup. “Admit it. You’re interested.”

Dean took a giant bite, barely fitting it all into his mouth at once. He smiled up at Sam around it, lines around his eyes crinkling in excitement.

Sam shook his head, but couldn’t help a grin from growing on his face. He liked seeing that grin on his brothers face – though he could do without the accompanying mouthful of food. He felt his own spirits lift at the idea of getting out of the bunker and back into something like normalcy.

And hey – he had time to spare. It’s not like Gabriel was around to distract him all that much.

“So what are you thinking? Pack our bags, get on the road by noon, we could be there with plenty of time to scope things out before the light show starts tonight.”

Dean took a moment to swallow before replying. “My thoughts exactly.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sam told his brother lightly.

 

…

 

Two hours after they arrived in Sedgewick, Sam was wondering why they had come at all. The entire town population was smaller than some high schools he had attended, and yet their interviews couldn’t pull a single lead. The police didn’t have a clue; there was no more connection between the kids than anyone in the town; no one in the entire town seemed capable of lying. It was a complete dead end.

“Any theories?” he asked his brother as they tucked into their meals at the local diner for dinner – a burger for Dean, and grilled chicken salad for Sam.

Dean shrugged. “Got me. No sign of anything we’ve seen before.”

“They can’t have all just up and left,” Sam said, annoyed. The trip had eased his foul mood, but not by as much as he had hoped it would. “Could it have been something human?”

“Doesn’t explain the lights,” Dean pointed out.

“What did Garth think?”

Dean harrumphed. “Garth thinks a pegasus – or pegasi – might be carrying the kids off and causing the lights.” He took another bite of his burger as if in disgust.

Sam raised an eyebrow. He mentally scoured through all the lore he had stored in his memory before finally asking, “What makes him think that?”

Dean shook his head. “Got me. A hunch? He didn’t have any lore to back it up with.”

Sam shook his head and shrugged. “I mean, I guess we can look into it. What time do the lights start?”

Dean shrugged. “Some people are saying dusk ‘til dawn. Others see it randomly, just a minute or two at a time.”

“So they should be starting soon?” Sam asked, looking out the window to confirm the sun was close to setting.

“Soon enough,” Dean agreed before polishing off his burger.

“Do we know who’s seen them?” Sam asked, suddenly very interested. “Or who sees them when? Did any victims see them?” He stole a fry from his brother’s plate.

“Why does it matter?” Dean asked, halfheartedly waving Sam’s hand away from his plate.

“Sounds like some people can see them better than others. Do you think they could be linked?”

Dean shrugged, but he felt himself perking up as he thought about it. “Maybe. Most of the reports have been on anonymous internet forums. Think we can track them back to the posters?”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Sam said.

“Let’s get out of here, then,” Dean said, throwing a few bills on the table. Who knew where he had picked them up; they hadn’t hustled pool in weeks, and Sam had only scammed credit cards for this trip, not cash.

 “Sure thing,” Sam said. He finished off his water in a long gulp, then stood to follow his brother out of the restaurant.

He ran straight into Dean’s back as soon as they were through the door, not expecting his brother to stop short.

“Well, that’s something else,” Dean said, almost under his breath.

Sam followed his brother’s gaze up to the sky, pretty sure he knew what he should expect.

His expectations were nothing like the real thing. Though the sky was clear of clouds, lightening flashed across it, arching from horizon to horizon. It ranged from a sickly white in its thickest branches to a deep forest green around the edges.

For the most part, they were only thin, short flashes crackling across the sky, but every now and then they would converge in a great, violent flash.

“I guess we can see them,” Sam said stupidly.

“Ya think, Samantha?” Dean asked, but there was no bite in his voice. If anything he was in awe. “Sounds like our kind of luck.”

Sam put a hand on his brother’s shoulder and pushed him toward the Impala. “I think we need backup,” he told Dean. Then, silently and more prayerful, _Cas, Gabe, we could use some help. Meet us in the Impala?_


	4. California Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Gabriel have a date while Cas is distracting Dean.

Castiel was waiting for them in the back seat when they got to the car, but Gabe was surprisingly nowhere in sight. Sam lifted an eyebrow at the present angel as he folded himself into the front passenger seat.

“No Trickster?” he asked.

Castiel pressed his lips together, as though he were weighing his words. “I don’t know where Gabriel is. He knows I’m not pleased with him.”

Sam’s other eyebrow shot up to join the first.

“Surprising. Really,” Dean said, voice heavy with sarcasm.

“He’s not – ” Sam cut himself off, unsure how he could possibly defend Gabriel. At last, unable to completely concede that his – what? Boyfriend? Angel-with-benefits? – was a complete jerk, he shrugged and said “He’d be here if we were in trouble.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t actually know that,” Dean scowled, though he knew the argument wasn’t convincing. He turned brusquely to gesture out the windshield. “What do you see, Cas?”

“Lights,” Castiel said, scooting forward on the bench seat and pulling himself up between the front seats for a better look. “Green lightning. Like it’s sick. Something’s not right about it, obviously, but I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Is it dangerous?” Sam asked, already certain he knew the answer.

“I have no idea,” Castiel admitted.

“Can you get a better look, do you think?” Dean asked. “Fly up there and…” he trailed off, making what looked to Sam like a somewhat obscene gesture with one hand.

Neither Dean nor Cas noticed Sam’s lips twitching as he bit his tongue.

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel said. “Do you think it’s the same thing that’s taking the children?”

“We can only hope it’d be that easy,” Dean deadpanned.

 Cas looked at him, eyebrows arched. “That does not seem easy to me.”

“All our problems in one package? How much easier could it get?” Dean retorted.

“I could think of many ways,” Cas shot back.

“Really, are you two flirting?” Sam interrupted, because he swore he could tell the look in Dean’s eye, and it was really not ok when it was so open and so clearly because Cas was being _intentionally difficult_. He did not need to know all his brother’s weird kinks. “Is this our new normal?”

“We’re discussing a case! Don’t get your panties in a twist, Samantha,” Dean defended himself, shit-eating grin clear on his face.

Sam harrumphed, annoyed. “Can we just get on with this? I have hacking to do.”

“Hacking?” Castiel asked, turning toward Sam with a look of earnestness in his eyes that Sam understood as an apology.

“Looking into the online forums on this lightning stuff,” he explained to the angel, keeping his annoyance in check. “It seems like only some people can see it, and they’re not exactly forthcoming about their identities. I’m going to figure out who they are anyway.”

“Ah,” Castiel said with a nod. “In that case, I’ll go do my part and leave you to it.”

“Hold up,” Dean said, reaching over to put his hand on Cas’s, where the angel was gripping the top of the driver’s seat.  “You can at least drive back to the motel with us. Make sure you know where to come back to when you’re done.”

“We’re going to get separate rooms tonight, aren’t we?” Sam whined. He knew it. It was a whine. They were just so – ugh. Especially when Gabe wasn’t even answering his prayers.

“Of course we’re getting separate rooms, Sammy. Unless you want to watch?”

Sam reached over to punch his brother in the chest. Dean put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking spot as he shouted, “Hey! No hitting the driver.”

“Jerk,” Sam accused.

“Bitch.”

In the rear view mirror, Sam saw Cas shaking his head fondly.

 

…

 

He would never tell Dean this, but hacking was one of Sam’s favorite parts of the job.

Everything else was messy. He loved it, of course, but it was never straightforward. Old lore, written by mostly paranoid hunters; killing things, sometimes not overly sure whether or not they were actually monsters; working with men, women and other creatures who were sometimes no better than the monsters they killed… Hunting was a messy business, even on the best of days.

This was the very opposite. Computers followed codes that Sam understood. Even if he didn’t understand the encryptions, he understood how to break them, what tools to use in what order, how to find the useful information in the text his scripts spit out. Sam relaxed into his work, focusing completely on his laptop, knowing that he was relatively safe alone in his motel room, with Dean and an angel just next door.

 Castiel hadn’t had much more information after coming back from his investigation, just that the lightning was “odd,” “very hard to track down,” and “requires more study.”

It was that second one that got Sam. Castiel hadn’t been able to find the source, or even get close enough to touch the lightning itself. He had explained something about interdimensionality, then a word salad of scientific and spiritual mumbo-jumbo before realizing that neither Winchester was following, and just gave up. That was when he and Dean had retired to the neighboring motel room.

Which brought Sam here, where he was happily tracking down the contact information for the first person to report the lightning (Jason Bardot, age 47, owner of a local coffee shop), the first person kidnapped (Kelly Anderson, age 11, still missing, and who the hell had let her on these forums anyway?), and the only other person who reported lightning from dawn to dusk (Marguerite Harrison, age 36, middle school English teacher). He was caught up in the flow of it, writing his findings in a notebook while his scripts ran on other leads.

“Wanna get out of here, you and me?”

The voice startled him enough to make his hand spasm, pouring black ink over all his notes and almost upending his laptop. He looked up at the interloper and glared.

“Gabriel!” his voice was sharp with surprise and displeasure. “What are you doing here?”

“You called _me,_ ” Gabriel reminded him, a familiar smile playing on his lips.

“Two hours ago,” Sam reminded him, glancing at the time on his laptop. “You didn’t show up.”

“I was busy,” the Trickster told him with a casual shrug.

 _Sure you were,_ Sam thought. He saw in the corner of his eyes the tremble of golden wings – a sign of discomfort in the archangel?

“And you’re not now?” he asked, his tone still cold.

Gabriel took a step toward him, body language warm even though his tone was still light and teasing. “I could be. Plenty of other things I could be doing tonight if you don’t want to come with me.” He gave an exaggerated shrug. “Kind of a dick move, though, teasing me with and invitation, then leaving me hanging.”

“I’m the dick?” Sam asked. He couldn’t help himself, he shook his head and laughed a little at the archangel’s sheer bluster. It was one of the many things he found charming (and annoying) about Gabriel.

Gabriel smirked, knowing his ploy was working.

Which was ok, because it totally was.

“I’m busy,” Sam told him, willing to be won over at this point, but pretty sure he still wanted Gabriel to work for it.

“I could probably do it for you. Faster.” Gabriel’s cocky look was only attractive because he was probably right.

“I’m having fun,” Sam countered.

“What I have in mind?” The archangel wriggled his eyebrows. “Definitely more fun.”

“And what is that?” Sam asked.        

“Dinner for two. Rooftop café overlooking the San Francisco Bay.”

“Are they allowed to have rooftop cafes in an earthquake zone?”

“It’s fine. They’re not due for another big one for at least a decade.” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Are you coming or not?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see those golden wings quivering again. Was it agitation or anticipation? He couldn’t tell, and he didn’t want Gabriel to know he could see it.

Sam looked down at his notebook. Two leads would be enough to go on for tomorrow. And Dean didn’t know enough about what he was doing to realize how much further along he should be by then. “Yeah, I’m coming,” he told the archangel, mock reluctance in his voice.

“Finally,” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes. He _snapped._

Suddenly, Sam felt the cold breeze of what must have been wind circulating over the Bay. It was cooler here than it had been in Kansas, and earlier – the last of the sun was just setting over the city, though he and Dean had watched the lightning emerge at dusk.

No lightning here, either, Sam realized.

He took a look at their closer surroundings. Sam had gone from sitting in front of a motel desk to sitting in front of a set dinner table, a neat, small menu laying on his plate. A handful of other diners chatted around him, sipping their drinks or eating their own meals. None seemed to notice their arrival. Gabriel snapped and a trio of candles appeared between their place settings.

“Is this a date?” Sam asked, eying the flames.

“Do we look like the rooftop date types? Perish the thought!” Gabriel said, and Sam wasn’t sure if he was teasing or not.

“Then what is it?” Sam asked.

“An apology,” Gabriel said, his features falling into an earnest, serious look. He held eye contact with Sam as he continued, “I wasn’t there today. I flew by fast enough to know it wasn’t an emergency, but then I had to get back to my work. I’m sorry.”

Sam relaxed and felt his mouth turn up into a fond smile. “You could have just said that at the motel,” he said, reaching across the table to take Gabriel’s hand in his own. “Apology accepted.”

Gabriel looked down, obviously a bit uncomfortable with the moment. “So, this is supposed to be one of the best places in town,” he said, changing the subject. “Popped up some time after the apocalypse, so I haven’t had a chance to try it yet.”

Sam looked down at his menu, eyebrow raising at the prices.

“For Dad’s sake, get whatever you want, Sasquatch. Forget who you’re here with?” Gabriel asked, his more habitual sardonic tone creeping into his words.

“How could I?” Sam teased, making a face at the archangel.

Gabriel made a face back, making Sam laugh. This was good. This was comfortable – him and Gabriel at their best, joking and bringing out each other’s playful (but not malicious) sides.

Sam let it last at least until they had both drinks and dinner in front of them, playfully flirting with the archangel. Once the meal was served, he realized he should be getting down to business – after all, he _was_ still on a hunt.

“Did you get a chance to see the strange lightning when you were back in Kansas?” he asked, knowing full well Gabriel would have noticed something like that, and that he probably even took the time to investigate in ways that even Cas couldn’t.

Although Gabriel’s face and posture remained steady, Sam noticed the strange ruffling of angel wings at the edge of his field of vision again.

“Course I did, Samarino,” Gabriel said, leaning back in his chair with cocky smile clear on his face, as though he thought he conversation was beneath him.

“What did you think?” Sam prodded.

The archangel shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Really?” Sam asked. “ _You_ don’t know?”

“I’m not my Dad, you know. Though I can see how you’d get confused,” Gabriel told him with a wink.

“Definitely not confused,” Sam assured him seriously, only smiling when he saw the Trickster’s mock scowl. Then he continued doggedly, “You didn’t try to get a better look at it?”

“Course I tried,” Gabriel told him. Another casual shrug. “Nothing to see – I couldn’t even get near it. Just looks like light to me.”

“Green light across the sky? That only a few humans can see, but apparently is totally visible to Winchesters and angels?” Sam prodded.

Gabriel sighed, then sat forward in his chair. “Listen, Samsquatch. I don’t know what you’re trying to get me to say, but I got nothing. No idea what it is, and no interest in it right now. What I’m interested in is here, with this big moose of a man in front of me, and I’d really like to get laid tonight. Can we drop the hunter talk and make that happen?”

Sam couldn’t help laughing at his brazenness. He couldn’t help himself when he answered, “I mean, if that’s what you think of as seductive, probably not.”

This time Gabriel’s scowl was something a little closer to real, at least for a moment before he got control of his emotions. “No wonder Dean calls you Samantha,” he groused.

“Not helping,” Sam told him. “Also, bringing up my brother now? Gross.”

“Alright, I see how it is,” the Trickster said after a pause. He reached out and started running his fingers down Sam’s arm, his face so close it glowed bright in the candlelight between them. “How about this?” he asked, looking up at Sam with hungry eyes dilated so much Sam could barely see their hazel irises. Sam could feel the hair on his arms suddenly standing on end with anticipation. “I have a penthouse room with a view of the city waiting for us, stocked with chocolate sauce and good champagne. I’d really like to lick both of them off of you for dessert. I’ll even share.”

Sam flushed, excited by the promise. “Yeah, maybe,” he managed, his voice rough. “If you keep talking to me like that.”

“Oh, you’re in luck,” Gabriel growled. “I am very good at talking. Especially about the things I want to do with you.”

“Go on then,” Sam challenged.

They had a whole meal to get through, after all. And he honestly wanted to hear every word Gabriel had to say on this subject.

 

…

 

Gabriel did his best to exhaust Sam thoroughly that night: an apology for the neglect Gabriel was sure he’d feel in the next several days. There was nothing for it, though. Sam would be in Kansas, and Gabriel most certainly would not.

He sighed heavily as he gathered his spent, sleeping human in his arms: far more gently than he really needed to, but Gabriel wanted to keep him close, for at least the moment.

“I’ll explain when I can,” he promised Sam. An empty promise; he could have explained it today, but he wasn’t ready.

He unfurled his wings and flew them back to Kansas as quickly as he dared. He stayed just long enough to make sure Sam was comfortable, and to snap up a somewhat longer bed for his oversized hunter so he’d be comfortable for the next few days, then fled. He had some work to do tonight, and he’d need to visit the bunker tomorrow.

At the very least, he should set Alfie back on research duty. Then he’d get back to his old life, he decided. Trickster work would keep him busy and distracted, if nothing else.


	5. Mediums & Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters go hunting. Castiel shows up to help. A surprise friend shows up at the end.

Despite going to bed in a sleek San Francisco hotel room, Sam woke up back in his cheap Kansas motel bed. Alone, again. Which, okay, was exactly what he expected. Gabriel had made it clear that he wasn’t at all interested in this case, or the light shows that went with it.

He rolled out of bed, glancing at his phone before heading into a shower. Dean had messaged him: **Any luck with those forums?**

He sent a quick message back: **Three total. One of the kids who was kidnapped and two others. We can interview them today.**

This motel actually had excellent water pressure, and plenty of hot water, to Sam’s delighted surprise. It felt good to scrub away the sticky sweet reminders of the last night – Gabriel had no end to creativity when it came to using food in interesting and enticing ways, but Sam really wished he would clean the residuals away when he snapped the lights off and finally let Sam get some sleep. It’s not like it would be hard for him, and Sam silently suspected that it was some kind of weird kink to have Sam waking up smelling like a strawberry sundae.

Well, it would be if Gabriel were there with Sam when he woke up.

Another text was waiting for him when he got out of the shower. **When you’re done washing your hair, Cas and I are waiting for you. Breakfast.**

Sam rolled his eyes but got dressed and made his way to his brother’s room.

He didn’t even have to knock. Castiel was opening the door before he got within arm’s reach.

“Dean wants breakfast,” Cas told him, somewhere between deadpan and exasperated.

Sam smiled. “I got the text.”

“It’s almost 10 am,” Dean pointed out, coming out behind Cas and locking up their room. “What? Were you up all night?”

“Yes, actually. In San Francisco,” Sam said, voice casual as he could manage. “With Gabe.”

Dean gave him a look. “San Francisco? Really?”

Sam shrugged.

“Well did he have anything useful to say at least?” Dean asked, leading the way out of the motel. There was a little truck stop diner that shared the parking lot with the motel and an oversized gas station, and they walked there instead of getting into the Impala.

“Not really,” Sam told him honestly. “He saw the lightning when he got here, but didn’t seem to have any more info than Cas did. Said he had too much work to do to stick around for the hunt.”

“Sure he does,” Dean said, rolling his eyes.

“I mean, he _is_ a demigod. I think,” Sam defended him, though he agreed with Dean. He really wasn’t sure why Gabriel had started up with the ‘Trickster business’ again. It’s not like he was still on the run.

 “I don’t think my brother knows what his is,” Castiel interjected helpfully.

Dean huffed a laugh. “You’re probably not wrong, Cas,” the hunter said.

“Anyway,” Sam said, changing the subject. “I have two leads we can follow up with today. A school teacher and a coffee shop owner.”

Dean looked back at him, “Why didn’t you say so? We should head to the coffee shop for breakfast.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, leveling a look that he hoped said, _Are you stupid?_ at his brother. “Sure. Because the best time to talk to any small business owner is his busiest time of the day. Besides, I’m pretty sure you can’t get bacon there.”

Dean rolled his eyes at him. “Ok, princess,” he said sarcastically.

“Let’s just get breakfast,” Sam said, opening the door for Dean. He knew he was being a dick, but he didn’t care to own it. And it was easier to change the focus to food than to get into a fight.

 

…       

 

“When did you start seeing the lightning, Mr. Bardot?” Sam asked a few hours later, emphasizing the harsh Americanized – _dot_ at the end of his name.

(He had been quite enthusiastically corrected after initially asking for Mr. Bardeau. “I ain’t got no pretensions of anything, ye hear?” the jovial entrepreneur had told him. The man was dressed as a salt-of-the-earth type, in his flannel, jeans and work boots, but he was more happy and welcoming than most. Sam suspected that was what made this shop successful.)

He was seated with Dean and the shop owner in The Bean Shop, a trendy coffee place that tried to be as friendly and down to earth as its owner. It had a rustic feel to it, with small wooden tables and chairs scattered through the front, covering a large space from the door to the wood fireplace in the back. Mostly students and teenagers just out of school were sitting at the tables, coffees and teas set out next to tablets and books as they studied or worked.

Today the Winchesters were posing as paranormal journalists. Both of them had notebooks out while they interviewed Andrew Bardot for the _New Ghostfacers_ blog – an amusing, if somewhat morbid, touch on Dean’s part.

“Guess it was about two or three weeks ago,” he told the brothers. “Just flashes, like, every now and again. Not a big deal, really, but my sister, Dinah, she convinced me to get to the doctor’s get it checked out. Thought it might be glaucoma, or maybe hallucinations.”

Dean interrupted. “Your sister? She doesn’t see anything?”

“Nothing. No one else seems to,” Bardot confirmed. “Doc says I’m in tip-top shape, though maybe I should lose a bit of this,” he added with a rueful smile as he put a big hand on the expanse of his belly.

“You don’t personally know anyone else who’s seen them?”  Sam confirmed.

He shook his head. “Only those I met online. Heck, I thought no one really believed me until you boys walked in.” He gave them an appreciative smile, then looked down at Sam’s bare forearms and then back up to his neck and –

 _Huh,_ Sam thought. He hadn’t expected to be checked out this openly in Middle America, but ok. The world really had changed since the apocalypse.

Sam cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. “Have you noticed anything else strange in the last few weeks, Mr. Bardot?” he asked.

 “Jason, please,” the man told him with a warm smile. “No, I don’t think so. What do you mean, weird?”

Sam looked at Dean to answer, but his brother was just trying to hide his smirk. “New people in town who don’t seem to fit, animals behaving in unexpected way,” he explained. “You already have strange lights, but we want to know if there’s anything else that might be connected. Any lead you could give us would help, no matter how unlikely.”

He shook his head. “Nothing like that,” he told them, leaning forward a bit. “You boys might be the most interesting thing that’s come in all year.”

Sam gave him a wide, charming smile. Might as well do whatever he could to get more information. No worse than anything he and Dean had done with women they were interviewing in the past. “Are you sure? Nothing else newsworthy at all?”

“Well, we did have a new family move in down the street from here,” Bardot admitted. “Bigger one, five or six kids, plus the parents. They don’t mingle much, but they seem alright. Just a bit quiet. Lots of tattoos, but who am I to judge?”

“Do you know how I could contact them?” Sam asked leaning in a bit. He absolutely did not look at Dean, who he knew was sitting back in his chair, shit eating grin on his face.

“I don’t know, like I said, they keep to themselves. They wouldn’t much like me giving out their address or whatnot.”

“I’m sure we could find them ourselves with a name,” Sam assured him.

“I can do that,” Bardot told him. He took his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a business card, then took a pen from behind his ear to scrawl a name on the back. He handed it to Sam. “There you go. You need anything else – anything at all – you give me a call, yeah? That’s my number on the front.”

“Will do,” Sam said, taking the card. He favored the man with another broad smile and held out his hand to shake. “Thank you again. This is really helpful.”

“Pleasure was mine,” Bardot said, shaking his hand for a moment too long before moving to shake Dean’s.

“We’ll be back, for more coffee, if nothing else,” Dean promised with a wink before they left. Because of course he did.

“Really?” Sam asked his brother as soon as they were outside again.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked innocently, his impish smile clearly betraying him.

“Promising to be back? Did you have to?”

“Hey, you were the one who seemed to be having such a good time with him,” Dean argued.

“It’s a case,” Sam defended himself. “What am I supposed to do? Not flirt back?”

“He was cooperating pretty well on his own,” Dean pointed out.

“Yeah, well, I got a name,” Sam pointed out.

“Sold yourself for a name, more like,” Dean teased.

Sam reached out and shoved his brother into the side of the Impala. “Bitch,” he accused. He was pretty sure it was about time to revive their prank war, or would be as soon as they got back to the bunker.

“Jerk,” Dean laughed.

Sam rolled his eyes and got into the passenger’s seat of the car. They had another stop to make.

 

…

 

Castiel popped into the Impala with a flurry of wings before they reached their next destination, saying he wanted to help with the next interview. Sam wondered if he knew something they didn’t, or if Castiel just wanted to hone his hunter skills. Not that he was as bad as he was when he lost his grace, but he could definitely use the practice.

According to Sam’s research last night, Marguerite Harrison would be at the elementary school right now, though the children had left for the day. She tended to stay in the school for a few hours every evening, poking around in online forums and presumable grading her eighth grader’s work.

The three of them walked into the school with as much confidence as they could. Fortunately, since it was after hours, security was lax and they just had to give the security guard Ms. Harrison’s name to get in.

They found her in her classroom, hanging posters covered in Shakespeare quotes. She was a tall, thin woman with a frail look about her. It was accentuated by her pale skin, a long mane of frizzy black hair, and round coke-bottle glasses, which made her green eyes look uncannily large. She was wearing a long, modest green dress, layered with some sheer material and cinched at the waist.

“Ms. Marguerite Harrison?” Sam asked, gently getting her attention.

“Sam Winchester! I thought you would be here today! And your brother!” she exclaimed. Then she looked at Castiel, her eyebrows furrowing quizzically. “But I didn’t think you’d bring one of them.”

“Of what?” Dean asked, his hand already going to the gun he had hidden in his jacket. “How did you know we were coming her, Ms. Harrison? Or Sam’s name?”

“Please call me Marguerite. I know a lot of things,” she said with a smile. “I know that you’re hunters. I know you’re trying to help the people here. You’re here for one problem but barely see the larger one under your nose. I even know that this one is not human, but something more,” the last was said while gesturing at Castiel. Then she frowned. “Though I do not know where those children you’re looking for are, I’m afraid.”

“You see things,” Castiel said, walking up to her, as if to get a better look. His calm seemed to have an effect on Dean, who lowered his hand to his hip.

She nodded looking at the angel in awe. “Sometimes. It comes and goes.”

Castiel tilted his head, studying her. “You know what I am?”

She shook her head. “Not what, just that you’re different. More. All silvery light. But you’re not like the others of your kind are you? There’s something else there.”

Cas nodded. “That’s sufficient.”

“So, what? You just see things?” Dean interjected, just a little skeptical. “Psychic?”

 _Come on, man_ , Sam thought. Hadn’t they been dealing with psychics since Missouri Moseley? Why did Dean have to act like he was surprised?

“Got me,” she confessed, looking back at Dean with a wry smile. She turned to sit down at a student desk, and motioned for the others to join her. “Now, are you here about the children or the lightning?”

“Both,” Sam told her. “We think they’re connected.”

He struggled to sit in the smaller adolescent-sized chairs, pulling one all the way out of a desk and carefully threading his long legs between multiple desks’ legs to stretch them enough to be comfortable. How had he ever sat in these?

She shook her head, placing her forearms down on the desk in front of her, hands spread. Everything about her body language said she was both relaxed and honest with them. “I don’t think so.” She looked down, biting her lip. “I know some of the children taken, and I’ve tried to look for them. I’m afraid they’re blocked from me.”

Sam took the card Bardot had given him earlier and read the last name from the back of it. “Do you know anything about the Exley family?” he asked. “They moved here recently.”

She shook her head, looking a bit confused. “I’ve never heard of them. I usually know everyone who comes and goes in this town. It’s not very big, you know.”

Dean nodded. “We’ve figured that out.”

“They have a bunch of kids – would you have known if they were enrolled in school here? Even if none of them were in your class?” Sam asked.

“Usually, especially if it’s a bigger family, I would have heard about it,” she told them, seemingly agitated. “No sure thing, though. If they’re all younger, they wouldn’t be in my school yet.”

Sam nodded. “Thanks. We’ll check them out,” he told her.

“You said you know about a larger problem ‘under our nose?’” Castiel interjected, redirecting the conversation.

She nodded, relaxing again now that she was once again certain of her own knowledge. “The lightning. You see it, don’t you? Constantly, from dusk to dawn?”

 “All three of us, yeah.” Sam nodded, urging her on.

 “It’s – I can’t exactly say what causes it. I see things, but I don’t understand them. It’s the remnants of a battle, I think. Or the fallout. I think it’s a herald of a bigger one.”

“A bigger battle?” Sam asked.

“Or a war,” she confirmed grimly.

Sam pressed his lips together worriedly, looking to his brother and Castiel for guidance. Dean looked just as disquieted as he felt.

Castiel looked curious. “Marguerite,” he said calmly. “I may be able to interpret what you’ve seen, if you let me see into your thoughts. Please?”

 She looked at him for a long moment, mulling it over. Finally, she nodded. “If you understand it, you must tell me.”

“Of course,” Castiel told her, and Sam wasn’t sure whether or not he was lying. The angel reached out to touch her temple, and both of them closed their eyes, leaving Sam and Dean to just watch as they communed.

It only took a minute before Castiel was pulling his arm back, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Anything, Cas?” Dean asked as soon as the angel was settled back in his chair.

Castiel looked down, giving a small shake of his head. “I’m not sure,” he said. “It has something to do with my brothers and sisters, but I can’t tell which ones, or how. Human vision – even visions like these – can’t discern much of us. I can’t even tell _when_ she’s seeing, if it’s happening right now, or some time in the past or future.”

 _Of course it wouldn’t be that easy_ , Sam thought. Aloud, he said, “It’s ok. We’ll figure it out.”

“Course we will,” Dean said. He looked back at Marguerite. “Just one more question for you: any pegasus sightings around here? Maybe some visions?”

She looked at him as though he had grown a second head. “No. I’m pretty sure there’s no such thing as an actual Pegasus. Why?”

“I’m pretty sure you’re right,” Dean told her with a charming smile. “Just asking for a friend.”

 

…

 

Their next stop was the Exley’s house. A relatively quick search on their phones found the most likely address – a large home in a cul-de-sac that had just recently been rented out about a month ago. Nothing was listed about them, but that matched Sam’s assumptions about the insular family.

“You coming?” Dean asked Castiel as they pulled up to the McMansion. It was pretty hideous, Sam thought as he stepped out of the Impala: a newly built oversized manor in the middle of an otherwise quiet neighborhood, with what seemed like acres of empty overgrown lawn around it, instead of the pleasant gardens or copses of trees that spotted the neighbors’ yards.

“I think you’ll need me,” Castiel told the Winchesters grimly, looking at the big house.

“Great,” Sam said, matching Cas’s tone. He made his way to the trunk for supplies. “Any idea what we’re up against?”

“Bardot mentioned tattoos. Djinn?” Dean suggested.

“I can look,” Castiel suggested. He was gone for a moment, but back almost at once.

“Well?” Dean asked when he didn’t immediately speak.

“It’s warded, even to angels,” Castiel told them. “It will not keep me out if they open the door to us, but I can’t see in.”

“Great,” Dean groused. “Even the monsters are learning Enochian now?”

“It would seem so,” Castiel said. The weariness in his tone matched Sam’s own feelings on the subject.

“At least we know we’re at the right place,” Sam pointed out.

It was still day, but there was little activity in the nearby houses, and only one car in one driveway. The brothers decided it was safe enough to suit up: silver knives in each pocket to join the guns they were already carrying. A second set of guns with silver bullets. Holy water and angel blades at their hips.

It was awkward to carry with all of it concealed, but neither one of them much liked walking into a situation blind.

Sam followed his brother up the path to the house, followed closely behind by Castiel. The angel’s disquiet was making him nervous.

Sam fingered his angel sword as Dean rang the doorbell. From here, he could see every one of the many windows in the house covered by dark curtains, with no hint of life or light inside.

The man who opened the door was an imposing, hairless figure. Wearing only a pair of black cargo pants and work boots, he was tall and pale, with broad shoulders and an impressive set of abs. He would give Sam a run for his money in a fight, it looks liked. Over all those muscles were an intricate and familiar set of tattooed symbols.

 _Djinn_ , Sam thought, hoping Dean and Castiel saw the same. _A family of djinn. With children. Children who need to feed off human children._ If they got into a fight right now, it wasn’t going to be pretty. They didn’t have any silver dipped in lamb’s blood, so he hoped the angel blades would be good enough.

 Dean cleared his throat, obviously trying to get a hold of his reaction.  “Mr. Exley?” he asked.

The djinn looked at the three of them, taking in their clothing and – despite Sam’s hopes – weapons. “Hunters!” he hissed, stepping back to close the door.

Quicker than Sam could visually follow, Cas was between them and the djinn, holding the front door open with one hand and the putting the other over the djinn’s forehead, burning him out with grace before he could raise the alarm.

“Find the children,” Castiel demanded, leading the way over the djinn’s dead body and into the house. “I’ll take care of the nest.”

“Like Hell,” Dean said, taking out his angel blade. “I’m with you.”

“I’ll find the kids,” Sam told them quickly, knowing exactly where they were most likely being kept.

“Call if you need me,” Castiel told him.

Sam just nodded and took off. As Dean and Cas made their way more methodically through the house, he went straight for the back, toward the empty kitchen.

In such a big house, it took him three tries to find the right door, after almost running into a bare pantry and a small powder room. The stairs down to the basement were dark, but faint lights from further in tentatively made their way to him. It was enough to see by without turning the lights on, and warning enough that he held his angel blade in front of him as he walked down.

The image that greeted him at the bottom was horrifying.

Beyond a small hall and an open doorway, he found a large, empty half-finished space, with plastered walls but pipes hanging down from the ceiling and metal columns exposed throughout the room. From each of these columns, and several of the pipes, a dozen unconscious children were strung up, wasting away and waiting to be fed upon.

A young djinn girl, not even a teenager yet but already half-covered in tattoos, was sitting in front of one of the children, her hand glowing blue as she traced the features of her victim’s face. The kid took no notice, he just continued to dream. He couldn’t have been more than six years old.

Sam swallowed and made his way into the room, cautiously looking around. He was half-relieved, half-disappointed that the girl was alone. He wasn’t going to have trouble taking her down, but this would have been a lot easier on his conscience if he could fight something that didn’t look like a child.

“Get away from him,” he told the girl, holding his angel blade out defensively. He wondered: Did djinn poison mature with them, or was it just as potent in children?

When she turned around to face him, her eyes were glowing that same eerie blue. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, the words oddly precise from her clear soprano voice. The effect was creepy.

“Yeah, well, here I am,” Sam told her.

She smiled widely, an evil smile that reminded Sam of Lilith, all those years ago. “I bet you’d make a fine meal for mummy and daddy,” she told him.

Sam opened his mouth to retort, but found himself snapping it shut as he moved to dodge a faster-than-lightning pounce. She was all speed, with little grace, but she knew that all she had to do was get one good hand on him and he’d be prone to her poison.

Fortunately, Sam was an experienced fighter and had at least 200 pounds on her. The fact that she attacked first made it marginally easier for him to grab her by her dress with his off hand and toss her down to the floor, face up. He took advantage of her stunned state and stabbed her with the blade quickly and as efficiently as he could, up her throat and into her skull. If the angel blade wasn’t enough to kill her, he knew from experience that the brain damage would be.

As soon as he was sure that she wasn’t going to get up again, he turned his attention to the human children. There were fourteen in all when he counted properly, ranging in age from about five to fifteen.

“Cas,” he prayed aloud, if only to give himself something else to concentrate as he started untying the children and pulling them down. “Tell Dean I found the kids in the basement. We’re going to need all the djinn poison antidote we have in the trunk. Clear out the rest first; I can handle things down here.”

There was no furniture in the basement, or even any boxes which might have contained blankets or pillows, so Sam had no choice but to just lay the children on the carpet, one thin layer off the cold concrete of the foundation. His only other option would have been to leave them where they were, which was not acceptable.

It wasn’t hard work, though it was heart wrenching, and it took a long time. Every one of the children were thin as rails, looking as though they hadn’t eaten in days – which of course they hadn’t. It was easy for him to hold them up with one arm as he untied the ropes that bound them, and to carry them to the middle of the room, where he laid them all next to each other. Even the largest of them seemed feather-light to him.

It must have been a hard fight, because Sam had time to take them all down and make them as comfortable as he possibly could before Cas and Dean came running down the stairs.

“Jesus!” Dean swore, stopping short when he saw their pathetic forms lain out on the floor in front of him. “Those sickos.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam agreed, looking down at the hallowed cheeks of the boy closest to him. “Do we have enough antidote for them all?”

Dean looked down at the bottle in his hand and shook his head. “No way. Maybe half, if we’re lucky.”

Sam looked at Cas, who was studying the children thoughtfully. “What about angel mojo?” he asked.

“I think my grace would restore them,” Castiel agreed. “You should both close your eyes for this.”

Dean did so immediately, but Sam hesitated, wondering if he could actually see what Cas was doing, the way he could sometimes see Gabriel’s wings. “Sam, please,” Cas said with a strange edge to his voice that made Sam comply immediately.

Whatever Cas did, it had the hair on Sam’s arms standing up on end; he could feel the warm vibrations of the healing power.

“It’s done. They’re all alright, but they’ll sleep for a while, and they won’t remember anything,” Cas announced after a minute or two. When Sam opened his eyes, the kids were all in the same spots, but they looked healthy again, if a bit thin.

“Alright, let’s get out of here then,” Dean said.

 “We can’t just leave them here, Dean,” Sam told him. “They’re gonna wake up scared and start to panic.”

Dean looked at the sleeping kids and nodded. “Alright, we get out of here, make an anonymous 911 call and get ourselves out of town – unless you want to fly them all home?” he looked at Cas when he said the last words.

Castiel shook his head. “I think it would be wiser to have them all found here. There will be less mystery to it, especially when the police find all the bodies upstairs. They won’t bother to look so hard for the killers.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “How about we take care of the bodies, _then_ we leave and call 911? I’d rather they didn’t find any bodies at all.”

Dean nodded. “Sounds like as good a plan as any.”

 

…

 

It took them the rest of the day to finish up and get on the road back to the bunker. They figured they’d have to head back later to figure out the lightning and Marguerite’s doomsday talk, but first they’d need to do what research they could, see if it was going on anywhere else, or if there was any mention of anything like it in the lore. And they would probably want to lay low for a few days, until the police officially closed their investigation.

It was just after midnight when they wandered into the bunker, both Winchesters exhausted and aching for their beds.

They stopped in their tracks, immediately changing their plans based on what they saw. Gabriel was at the main table, chatting with an enigmatic redhead.

“Welcome home, bitches!” Charlie called up, raising her glass of wine at them. “I’m back!”


	6. Friends in the Bunker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie's back, and Sam and Samandriel chat.

Gabriel hadn’t meant to stay at the bunker long once he got there, but he had instantly been drawn in by Ana, who wasn’t sure what to do with a new human who had just arrived. Via portal. And then acted like it was, quote, “no big thing.”

Gabriel liked her immediately, even if she was stubborn enough to not want to talk about where she came from until after the Winchesters got back. He would have flown her out there himself, but that would have meant going back to where the skies were on fire.

No, Gabriel was not that brave. Instead he decided to wait the evening out with her, then fly by and check on the hunter’s progress in the morning. Or maybe have Ana do that last part.

It didn’t take much to get her chatting, especially once Gabriel snapped up a couple of bottles of rare mead - which spurred on the most amazing story about Dean LARPing in full-on Braveheart mode.

“Oh my Dad, he is never going to live that down,” Gabriel told her, already trying to figure out how to get Castiel out of the bunker long enough to apply some semi-permanent dye to Dean’s face as he slept. He couldn’t wait to see Sam’s reaction – he thought his hunter would rather appreciate it.

“So how did you get here?” Charlie asked him. “I don’t ever remember hearing about you from the guys. I thought the only angel they even liked was Cas.”

Gabriel shrugged. “I was dead for a while after the apocalypse. They didn’t exactly like me then, either. Took some time to figure out how to get back here, weasel my way onto Team Winchester.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Dead? Really? Angels can come back from the dead? I thought that was against the rules.”

“I kinda have a knack for breaking the rules,” Gabriel confessed.

 “Me too!” she said, raising her glass, giggly with mead. “I think we should drink to that.”

“I think we should,” Gabriel agreed, almost conspiratorially. Gabriel clinked with her before taking a long sip. He really quite liked this friend of the Winchesters. She had spunk.

 At that moment, the door to the bunker opened above them. Gabriel didn’t bother looking up, knowing exactly who it was. Instead, he watched Charlie’s face grow excited as she shouted, “Welcome home, bitches! I’m back!”

“Charlie!” Dean called down, rushing down the stairs to meet her. She hopped up and let him envelop her in a bone-crunching hug.

Sam wasn’t far behind, almost sweeping her off her off her feet as he wrapped those ridiculously long arms of his around her. “You’re back! How was Oz?”

“Oh, you know. Improbable and scary,” she said as casually as if she was describing a warm, pleasant day.

“Oz?” Gabriel asked. “As in –” he looked at Sam questioningly.

“Flying monkeys? Yellow brick road?” Sam answered empathically. “Yeah, it’s all real.”

 “What are you doing back?” Dean asked. “Not that we’re not thrilled. We love having you back. But -?”

“Politics,” she told him flatly, and even Gabriel could tell that she was avoiding the subject. But then she looked at Castiel, who had come down behind the hunters, and started to eye him up appreciatively. “And who is this? Let me guess: Blue eyes, black hair, trench coat – you’re cuter than I thought you’d be, _not_ that you’re my type. Also, I thought you’d be shorter.” She looked at Gabriel. “Especially after meeting him. Nice to finally meet you, Castiel!” she put her arms around him in a quick, awkward hug. Castiel didn’t even have time to raise his arms and return in.

Not that he seemed to care. He smiled back at her. “Charlie. It’s nice to meet you, too. Dean’s told me a lot about you.”

Dean put one hand each on Charlie and Castiel’s shoulders. “Charlie, this is my boyfriend.” His smile was somewhere between a cat that got the cream and a plea for approval.

 Charlie looked between the two for a moment, then punched Dean in the shoulder jovially. “Well about time!” she said. She gave Cas a measured look, then stage whispered, “You would not _believe_ the way he talks about you. I knew it!” She looked back at Dean and repeated herself a bit louder. “I knew it!” She punched his arm again, then threw her arms around him in another hug.

Sam sidled up to Gabriel, and he turned to give the taller hunter his attention. “So, how much did she have?” he asked quietly.

“Just a glass or two,” Gabriel told him.

“Of what?” Sam pried.

“Valhallan Mead,” Gabriel confessed.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “As in – ”

Gabriel shrugged with one shoulder. “You want some?” he asked, deflecting. “It’s not _that_ much more intoxicating than Earth liquor.”

Sam gave him that _look_. Gabriel’s absolute favorite look. The one that made it clear that he saw right through Gabriel, and he knew he was trouble, but he didn’t care – he was going to follow Gabriel down and see how much fun trouble could be. The one that made Gabriel think maybe Sam was a little insane, because it was clear in his eyes how much he liked the archangel, whether or not he had admitted it out loud yet, and Gabriel still wasn’t really good with that level of emotion.

“Maybe just one,” Sam told him coyly.

Gabriel snapped up three more glasses and a second bottle. This wouldn’t get him or Castiel drunk, but it would give them a nice buzz if they had enough. He poured them each a healthy glass, refilling his own and Charlie’s while he was at it.

“Hey, three amigos,” Gabriel called to Charlie, Dean and Castiel. Charlie and Dean raised their heads from whatever they had been conspiring about, and Cassie looked at him I relief. “Join us. Have a drink.” He raised his glass again. “To friendship, or whatever.” He took a long gulp before anyone could join him in the toast.

Dean gave him a halfhearted glare, but took a seat between Charlie and Cas. Charlie, Gabriel noticed, had settled between both Winchesters, so Gabriel was sitting between Sam and Castiel.

“So, Oz,” Gabriel repeated. And how had he missed that bit of the conversation before. “How did a girl like you get there? I didn’t think and of you humans knew anything about interdimensional travel anymore.”

“Dorothy,” Charlie said, a sour note in her voice. “Daughter of L. Frank Baum. Holder of one of the Six Keys. Most powerful lady in Oz right now, though she doesn’t have a moment to spare for anyone else.”

“That bad?” Dean asked. Gabriel was surprised to hear a note of sincere sympathy in his voice.

“That bad,” Charlie agreed before taking a long sip of mead. She looked at Gabriel. “This stuff is _really_ good. Much better than the stuff we had at the LARP.”

“Yeah, Gabriel knows how to get the good stuff,” Sam agreed before taking his first sip. Gabriel was delighted to see his eyes pop open as he pulled the glass back from his lips and began to smell it. “This stuff is _really_ good, he agreed.”

“So what, did you break up with her?” Dean asked.

Charlie gave a half shrug. “I guess,” she said. “I kinda just took the Key and left.”

“You what?” Sam asked. “Isn’t she going to come after it?”

“I left a note,” Charlie added, staring down at her wine glass mulishly. “Besides, I needed it to come home. If she wants it back, she can have it. She just has to get ahold of another Key and come get it.”

“Do you have it on you now?” Gabriel asked.

She nodded, then took a silk package out of her pocket. Methodically, she pulled back the layers of the insulating material, until the Key fell out into her lap. To the humans, he was sure it looked like a regular, if oddly shaped, old piece of carved wood, but Gabriel and Castiel could see it for what it really was. It lit up with iridescent light, glowing bright enough to light up the whole bunker for anyone who could see it.

“Put that away,” Castiel told her, probably more forcefully than was actually necessary. “Any angel or demon within a mile will see it if it’s not covered.”

She hastily moved her hands to wrap it up again, but Gabriel put out a hand to stop her.

“Actually, could I see it?” he asked.

She nodded and handed it over to him.

Gabriel studied the key, carefully using his own grace and pagan magic to conceal it from any spying eyes. It was amazing; he had never seen magic like this before. He suspected it was because it originated in Avalon, a world which he rarely visited, even as Puck. The magic of it resonated between worlds in a way few things could.

“Would you mind if I borrowed this?” he asked Charlie. He put a hand up when she opened her mouth to answer and quickly added, “You can have it back whenever you want it. But it – and you – will be much safer if it’s with me.”

She looked at Dean for affirmation.

Dean shrugged. “He is one of the good guys,” he told her. “But I’m not going to tell you to trust him.”

Sam bit back a laugh, but at least came to Gabriel’s defense. “You can trust him, Charlie.”

“See, totally my favorite for a reason!” Gabriel’s smile lacked most of its usual sarcasm when he looked at Sam.

“Ok,” Charlie said, putting her whole breath into the two syllables. “But if Dorothy comes looking for it, I guess I really should talk to her.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Gabriel told her.

“You’d better,” Charlie warned him, though he was pretty sure her bark was worse than her bite.

“In that case, I have some work to do. Enjoy the mead!” He slipped the Key into his coat pocket and turned to give Sam a solid kiss, slipping him some tongue when his mouth opened in surprise. “I’ll see you in a few days,” he promised, looking straight into Sam’s eyes.

Then he spread his wings, snapped his fingers, and was on his way to one of his many private havens.

 

…

 

Sam didn’t sleep well that night. He was distracted, thinking about the lightning, about the psychic they had encountered, about how good it had been to see Charlie.

He had concentrate very hard _not_ to think about Gabriel and that very public kiss, right before he swanned off to only he knew where.

So when he got up early the next morning, his muscles protested the idea of a run, and he decided to give himself a day off. Instead, he made a pot of coffee and went to the library to do some research.

He had gotten himself halfway into an old manuscript about the ley lines that stretched across North America when Samandriel walked in, Angel Tablet in hand. He was wearing a pair of loose dark jeans and a dark purple dress shirt that actually looked very good on him – probably Balthazar’s doing. Nothing could really distract from the odd scars that still marked his forehead from his time being tortured by Crowley. Even now, he rubbed them every so often, as though they still hurt.

“Hey, Samandriel,” Sam said, foregoing the usual nickname, since he knew the angel hated it. Sam had a soft spot for the young-looking angel, who spent so much of his time in the library since arriving, often with Sam to keep him company.

Samandreil looked up from the Tablet and gave him a small smile. “Sam. You’re here early.”

Sam raised the manuscript with one hand. “Researching,” he said, then read the title, “ _A Treatise on the Geographical and Magickal Alignment and Currents of the Northern American Continent_ by on Arabella Barnes.”

Samandriel raised an eyebrow: an odd gesture for any angel but Gabriel, Ana, and maybe Cas. “That’s the kind of magic Gabriel uses,” he said. “The Pagan kind, when he’s not using his grace.”

“Huh,” Sam said, mulling that over.

“I’m sure you’re interested in the family history, too,” Samandriel said.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

 “Arabella Barnes, born 1855, died 1917. Magical scholar. Wife of Frederick Barnes, Man of Letters; mother of Victoria Barnes, among other. Victoria went on to marry Christopher Winchester, another Man of Letters, a direct paternal ancestor of yours and your brothers,” Samandriel recited. “Didn’t you know?”

“No,” Sam responded, shaking his head. “How – why would you even know that?”

“I’m an angel,” Samandriel told him, a hint of soft ridicule in his voice. “Also, you two were supposed to represent the culmination of years of planning. All the angels knew who you were, and your lineage, even if we didn’t know Michael’s plans.”

“Huh,” Sam said, not sure what else he could say. Intellectually, he knew that angels were awesome, divine beings, but every now and again that knowledge just seemed to hit him in the face.

Samandriel sat down and looked at Sam for a minute. “Why were you reading it, then? Is there something I can help with?”

Sam smiled at the angel. “Not yet, no. I’m not really even sure what I’m looking for, or where to start,” he confessed. “I thought the ley lines might have something to do with the lightning we saw on our hunt yesterday, but nothing I was reading pointed toward that.”

 “Gabriel told me about that,” Samandriel told him. “Yesterday, he asked me to keep an eye out for anything that might help in my research.”

_Of course he wouldn’t tell anyone when he does something helpful_ , Sam groused silently. “Found anything yet?” Sam asked.

Samandriel shook his head. “No,” he said. “Gabriel wasn’t exactly…forthcoming with all the information. I feel like I’m flying blind.”

“You and me, both,” Sam commiserated.

Samandriel watched him for a few more moments, in that odd way angels had when they were trying to figure humans out.

“I’d like to ask you a question,” he said finally. “But I’m not sure if I should.”

“Ask away,” Sam told him. “I’ll let you know if you shouldn’t.”

“You know I’ve been trying to figure out an alternate way to close the Gate to Hell,” Samandriel started. And no, Sam hadn’t been privy to that piece of information, but he was now at least. Sam nodded. “I’ve been wondering – is there anything you could tell me about your time in the Cage?”

Sam blinked, a bit startled by the question.

“As I said, I wasn’t sure if I should even ask you.”

“No – uh,” Sam stumbled over his words. “It’s ok. I just – I hadn’t thought of it in so long. Castiel took most of the memories from me, anyway. I don’t remember most of it.”

“Does Castiel remember?” Samandriel asked.

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. It drove him insane for a while there, holding it all. And then when he got back from Purgatory, he was fine. We never talked about it.”

“I see,” Samandriel said, sounding a little disappointed. 

“Well, I might be able to help,” Sam told him. “If there’s something specific – I might remember it.”

 “How did – ” the angel pursed his lips, as though looking for the right words. “How big did it feel? Were you pressed together, or was it vast? I’d like to understand how it exists in space, if it even does.”

“It’s huge,” Sam told him automatically. “Lucifer was always close to me, always, but I hardly ever even saw Michael and Adam. Unless there was a reason for him to see Lucifer, Michael kept Adam as far from us as he could.”

“What reasons would Michael have?” Samandriel asked.

“I don’t know,” Sam told him. There was a blank space there, where the words once were, but he didn’t have access to them anymore. “Castiel took that.”

“I see,” Samandriel said solemnly.

“That was the only good part about the cage,” Sam said, the feeling of it surrounding him, even if the explicit memories were gone. He held on to the best of it, a touchstone for him in case the agony and pain came back, tried to swallow him whole. He was still scared of those memories, even after all this time. “Michael and Adam. They weren’t happy there, but they weren’t broken either. There was something normal, okay even, about them.”

Samandriel nodded, a small smile on his face. “I’m glad Michael remembered to do the right thing for him,” he told Sam. “I had – all of us had wondered how your younger brother fared there, where we couldn’t save him.”

“You can’t save everyone,” Sam told him stoically, drawing from his own experience. “No matter how much you want to.”

“No, you can’t,” Samandriel said. He stood up suddenly and pulled a book from the shelves, handing it to Sam. “I suggest when you finish with that manuscript, you start on this. It may not help with your lightning problem, but I believe it may lead you to some conclusions about our local archangel, and the sources of his power.”

“I – thanks,” Sam said. He looked down at the brown leather cover, its title inscribed with gold leaf. _Dragons of the Ages._

“You’re welcome, Sam,” Samandriel said. Then he settled down into his chair, both hands on the Angel Tablet as he set about his quest to understand it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid I will not be updating next week. I have to get through a few chapters and really know how I'm going to structure the next act before I can post. (I've written and rewritten the next chapter about 3 times this month, and it's not working for me. I'm just going to have to get past it and edit it into behaving after the fact.)
> 
> The plan is to post again on Tuesday, August 8. Follow my tumblr at http://RosaleenBan.tumblr.com in case I update that plan. :)


	7. Interlude: In the Void

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this isn't a full chapter, but I did get something to you by Tuesday, so I'm rather happy with myself. I'm in the middle of several projects, but I'm trying really hard to keep up with this one.

Raphael wore the face of his last vessel: a strong, hardened black woman. A warrior. She had been Michael’s suggestion; of those few who were strong enough to hold an archangel, she was the most suitable for war.

He wasn’t sure why he was still drawn to her face here. She hadn’t been his first pick, but she had reminded him of his elder brother. Of the peace they had created in Heaven; of his warrior instinct; perhaps of what Raphael would need to remember to survive.

Ammut had grown more restless as of late. The other angels had tried to appeal to him, to have him tell him what to do, but he had given them weak excuses.

How could he tell them that he had no more idea than they did? That he was never the strategist that Michael was? Would they ever understand that he didn’t _want_ to know - that he was comfortable here, closer to their Father than he had been in centuries?

His peaceful reverie was broken by Naomi, who was suddenly by his side. Erendriel, the first angel to find this place, was beside her. He was an odd one here, more like what the angels were when they were born than any Raphael knew in the last centuries. His innocent, adolescent face belied old, wise eyes, and there was an aura of serenity all around him.

_Were we all really like that, once?_ Raphael asked himself. As vast and infallible as he was supposed to be, he could not remember what it had felt like.

“Raphael, you must lead,” she told him without preamble – not for the first time. “The dragon is restless, and the others are starting to wonder what that means.”

She looked at Erendriel pointedly. When he didn’t speak, she pushed him in front of her by the shoulder, literally thrusting him into the conversation. “Tell him what you told me.”

“I’ve never seen Ammut like this,” Erendriel told him, his voice clear and present, though in his eyes he looked as though he was on the other side of the Void. “None of us have.”

Raphael raised an eyebrow, but didn’t speak. Although he was curious, he didn’t want to give the impression that he was moved by the entreaty.

“What do you think it means?” Naomi asked for him.

“I don’t know,” Erendriel replied. “But I can guess.”

“What would your guess be?” Raphael asked softly, the words escaping him before he could stop himself.

“She feels angry,” Erendriel told him. “She wants to lash out.”

Raphael pursed his lips. He could guess why she was angry, though he wouldn’t tell the other angels what he knew of Gabriel’s theft.

“What will she do when she does?” Naomi asked, prodding him on.

Erendriel shrugged. “I don’t know. I hope I’m wrong. But – I’m sure it’s occurred to both of you: we’re the only ones here for her to lash out against.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I played a bit with using "she" or "he" for Raphael here, since he has a female vessel. But Gabriel always refers to him as a brother, and the show refers to him as "he," and sex and gender are not the same thing, so I'm going to go ahead and assume "he" is Raph's preferred pronoun, even though he also prefers female vessels.


	8. Griffins' Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's not happy, but thinks he can make things better. Gabriel's panicking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not only am I bit a late in posting this, but it's a bit shorter than I wanted, but I really liked this ending point. I hope you still like it, and you get my love of paleontology. ;)

Sam laid alone in his bed, unable to sleep. He didn’t think of himself as prone to dwell on the worst of his life – certainly not about his relationships, which often could probably use more dwelling, he suspected.

But Gabriel was gone again. Dean was with Castiel, and Charlie had been set up with her own room in the bunker hours ago. Sam should be comfortably exhausted and asleep next to his own angel – either sexed out or just tired from the case and drive back. And his batteries were certainly drained, but without the archangel he had expected, he found it hard to sleep.

He tried for an hour or so, but nothing was helping. So, sometime far after midnight he got up and grabbed a notebook from his bag. He thought of wandering out and finding a desk somewhere, but he needed privacy, so he wrapped himself up in his blanket and sat on his bed, notebook awkwardly settled on his bent knee.

He wasn’t sure whose turn it was in the prank war – his last prank had been cut short when Castiel’s grace had failed him and he had passed out. Sam and Gabriel had cleaned up the mess while Dean took care of Cas, so Sam thought maybe it was still his turn.

Maybe not, but who knew. Maybe a good prank could catch the attention of a certain archangel-trickster. It was worth a shot.

 

…

 

Gabriel needed some space. He needed to get away from the bunker, from Kansas, from the responsibility of what he was certain was coming. Coming for him, most likely.

He wanted to bring Sam, if he were honest with himself. It tore him apart to leave the hunter in the bunker, but there was no way he could bring him along. Not without explaining everything not only to Sam, but to Dean and Castiel, too. And there was no way he was ready for that.

If he had his choice, he’d never have to. He’d figure this out and never have to tell them the danger he brought to their doorstep. He’d never see the judgement or rejection in their eyes.

The best place for an archangel on the run to get space these days was, ironically, Heaven. So that’s where he went. Straight to the Gates of Eden.

Shrike was on guard duty when he got there, with a young, golden feathered griffin Gabriel had not met before.

“Trickster!” Shrike called, pouncing down to greet Gabriel where he had landed.

The griffin butted his head into Gabriel’s midsection playfully, then nuzzled him with his forehead. He danced back, looking at the archangel. “What brings you back here already?”

“Needed to stretch my wings,” Gabriel admitted. “Maybe some of Halliya’s good advice.” He looked up at the other griffin on duty, who was watching them with curiosity from her perch.

“What about my good advice?” Shrike asked, puffing out his chest and neck feathers proudly.

Gabriel gave him a wide grin. “I know better than to take your advice. Who’s your new partner?”

“Kerryl,” Shrike said, those deep, odd vocal cords pondering over the long, deep rr in her name. “Come down and meet the archangel Gabriel.”

The golden griffin flew down from her perch, making a few small circles around them before she landed. Once on the ground, she made one final ring, walking around Gabriel curiously.

“I am Kerryl,” she said in a slightly higher pitched voice. “It is good to meet you, archangel. My elder cousin speaks very highly of you.” She nodded to Shrike, leaving no question who her cousin was.

“Do you really?” Gabriel asked audaciously, looking at Shrike.

“I shouldn’t,” Shrike told him. “You’ll get a big head.”

Gabriel turned back to the other griffin, bowing to her in an approximation of their more formal style of respect. “I’m pleased to meet you, too,” he told her. “Though I’m sorry you have such a featherbrain of a cousin.” He winked.

“You’re a troublemaker, aren’t you?” she asked with the deep purr which passed for a giggle among griffins. She must have been very young Gabriel gauged, probably just starting in her duties as a guard of Eden.

“What can I say? It’s in my nature,” Gabriel told her.

“Let me bring you to Halliya before you start any trouble with my young cousin,” Shrike said, using his bulk to shoulder Gabriel toward the Gates. He opened them casually, as though they were nothing more than a simple garden gate, and Gabriel followed them in. He heard Kerryl close it behind them, but he wasn’t paying attention. Instead, he was looking around at the Garden of Eden.

The Garden was constantly changing, with new species growing there all the time. Some were on the brink of evolution, and would flourish on Earth soon. Others were echoes of lost species, or imaginings of species which may one day actually exist. On this visit, Gabriel particularly liked the dark green vines with vibrant blue and purple flowers that traced the edges of the path, and the larger-than-life butterflies that drank their nectar. An avian above warbled a familiar song, one he hadn’t heard in millennia.

“Miocene?” Gabriel asked, putting a friendly hand on his good friend’s shoulder as they walked.

“Eden has been nostalgic lately,” Shrike told him with a nod. “She misses your brethren, we think. She reverted to the Carboniferous period when your Father first left.”

“Is she that alive?” Gabriel asked. He had never heard Eden talked about as such.

“We think so,” Shrike told him as they approached a low cliff. “Follow me!”

He suddenly jumped off the cliff, spreading his wings to catch the updraft from below. Gabriel watched for a moment, taken by the beauty of his form as he beat those strong wings from one updraft to the next, making his way up to a much higher cliff in the near distance.

Angel wings worked differently, of course, but that didn’t mean Gabriel couldn’t fly if he wanted. Instead of using wings, he relied mainly on grace. He beat his wings slowly, just enough to enjoy the feel of the wind in them as he propelled himself into the air, and then he followed the griffin at Shrike’s pace.

Shrike led them up to a cave mouth on the side of the cliff – one of many. Gabriel had been here many times before, and knew that this was how the griffins arranged their cities: a collection of aeries in the cliffs, some connected by caves and some completely independent.

Halliya’s aerie, as usual, was warm and comfortable, covered in soft animal skins and hide-covered pillows, and decorated with semiprecious stones and colorful feathers.

“Halliya, you have a guest!” Shrike called out when the other griffin’s presence was not immediately apparent.

“And do guests no longer knock?” Halliya asked, coming out of a back room, feathers on end in obvious frustration.

“Not this one,” Gabriel told her. “Not really my style.”

“Gabriel!” she said feathers smoothing in excitement. “You’re back so soon? Why? Weren’t you going to stay on Earth until the angels were healed?”

“I’m not here for long,” Gabriel told her. “But I had to talk to you.” He looked at Shrike meaningfully. “Both of you, actually. I need opinions.”

“Of course,” Halliya told him, settling down onto one of her large, plush leather cushions. “I was going to see your traitor today, find out what I could from him.” She clacked her beak in a predatory gesture that would have been terrifying to anyone else. “After we speak, would you like to join me?”

Gabriel thought about it for a moment. “Not today,” he told the griffin. “Though the last place I want to be is in Metatron’s head.”

The griffin grinned, her beak gleaming in the faux sunlight streaming in from outside. “Very well, then. I don’t blame you in this; it’s also the last place _I_ want to be. Very well then, what would you talk about?”

“Ammut,” Gabriel told her seriously.

 Halliya growled deep in her chest. “I have not heard that name in a very long time.”

“You’ve seen her magic more recently,” Gabriel confessed to the griffin. He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “I might have a bit of it myself, actually.”

Halliya’s eyes grew wide and the feathers around her face and neck pressed flat into her skin. “How?” she asked.

“I borrowed it,” Gabriel equivocated.

“You stole it,” Shrike accused.

Gabriel had enough bravado to give what looked like a halfhearted shrug. “I needed the power to escape the Void. I hadn’t, for all intents and purposes, I’d still be dead.”

Halliya leveled him with a hard look.

He met her gaze. “Really it was the only way.”

“Why do you need to talk to us about her now, then?” she asked. “You were not quick to mention her when you came back.”

Gabriel sighed. “She’s not happy with me.”

“Obviously,” Halliya said dryly. “But she has not been of this world for millennia.”

“She wants to change that,” Gabriel admitted gravely.

Shrike began to growl, deep in his throat. Halliya looked equally discomforted.

“I need your help,” Gabriel told them, going straight to the point. “I need to know how much of a problem this is. If she’s going to get to earth, whereabouts she’ll show up, anything we can find.”

“What exactly are you talking about?” Halliya asked.

Gabriel’s voice was cold, hard: deadly serious. “She’s trying to break through the fabric between worlds. I don’t know how, or how much power she’d need to do it – but I can feel her. I don’t know if she can feel me, too.”

“What will she do when she returns?” Shrike asked.

Gabriel looked him in the eyes. “I don’t know. But I think it’s not going to be good – for me, or anyone around me.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're liking this, please let me know! And follow me on Tumblr:  
> http://rosaleenBan.tumblr.com
> 
> It's a new blog, if you were following my old one, please follow this one instead. I'm not posting to the old one anymore. 
> 
> <3


End file.
